


(under your) Spell

by blue like winter (bleucommelhiver)



Series: till the sky falls [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fingerfucking, Fluff, Forced Orgasm, Light Bondage, Magic Play, Nyx has a dirty mouth, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Magic, Smut, and magical fingers, straight up porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-07 09:31:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11056185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleucommelhiver/pseuds/blue%20like%20winter
Summary: He grins cheekily, “You know, babe, you shouldn’t be so mad. While I was away, I’ve gotten pretty good at magic…”In which Nyx learns to hone his magic during a long mission away.





	(under your) Spell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [laPamplemousse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laPamplemousse/gifts).



> Prompt: Nyx coming back after a long deployment and just letting all that pent up sexual frustration out with his S/O
> 
> >I hope this satisfies you :')
> 
> This is also dedicated to all Nyx fans; especially those of you who've been wanting some fluff to temper the unfair treatment of Nyx in XV and the sadness in _(i'll make you) Stay_. This can be considered a loose prequel, but it is not necessary to read one to enjoy the other.
> 
> There is a definite lack of fics about this gorgeous man & I want to help fill it! If you have prompts, shoot me a message :)

Nyx sits alone at the dusty old bar, watching in amusement as Crowe and Luche continue to school the increasingly drunk Libertus and Pelna in a drinking game of billiards; one shot of Cactaur Mezcal for each ball the opposing team pockets, double for each scratch and triple for whenever the cue ball pockets. He hears the sharp clink of the cue, followed by a loud whoop from Crowe and a despairing groan from Pelna. The poor duo was outmatched in both skill and drinking ability. Serves Libertus right for challenging the self-proclaimed ‘Queen of Pool’ over a silly clash of egos.

"Nyx, man,” Libertus slurs as he downs another shot, messily wiping the dribble with the backside of his hand, “C'mon, help a brother out!"

"You're on your own for this one, big guy,” he chuckles, “You can join me for a glass if you ever come to your senses."

As nice as it was to finally have some free time, rather than whittling it away in Hammerhead’s one and only rundown pub, Nyx was eager to return to Insomnia. Gods he wanted to be home. They were so, so close, with only fifty more miles to go, but Captain Drautos had mumbled something about the importance of team building exercises before ordering the convoy to halt at the pub’s nearly vacant lot. Looking across the room, he snorts as he spies Drautos, red-faced and laughing with a busty barmaid.

_Team building exercise my ass._

_‘Huh. Guess even that crotchety old fart has his moments,’_ your voice echoes clearly in his mind.

His eyes close and for a moment he can almost imagine you next to him. He missed you. So much that it hurt.

It had began with a niggling sense of something _missing_ , that ate at his chest as the days drew longer, until the ache manifested into a gaping hole that could only be filled with thoughts of you. Every moment of consciousness became a struggle of will; of willing himself to stay focused on the task at hand instead of drifting off to memories of soft warm skin when chill seeped deep into his bones, or the gentle twinkling of laughter when there was nary a sound but the rhythmic click MT boots.

But like a cruel joke, even rest provided no reprieve. You consumed his dreams, vivid and sharp, so focused you blurred the lines of his reality. There were mornings where he woke with the taste of you on his lips, the sounds of your pleasure in his ear, and the feel of you hot, slick, tight around him, only to be bewildered at the loss of you as the fingers of slumber released its hold and the sands of sleep fell from his weary eyes. Those mornings were the worst — waking up burning with desire, cock painfully hard and no release in sight but the rough pull of his calloused hand.

He thought it’d be easy. Past missions kept him occupied enough that time to dwell on anything other than the immediacy of each mission was scarce. And despite the urgency of the current mission, he found constant reminder of you in the most innocuous of things, eliciting an intense longing that surged from the depths of his stomach. And now here he is, finally within sight of Insomnia, only to be stranded at this goddamned bar 'cause his captain wanted to make googly-eyes at some barmaid.

Sighing, he leans back against the counter to order another drink when a pretty blonde with short curly hair sidles onto the stool next to him and hands him a cold beer.

"S’on me, handsome. Ya new ‘round here?" she asks with a honey thick drawl that is somehow endearing with her bright countenance.

Nyx takes the perspiring bottle and lifts it in thanks, clinking their bottles together before taking a long drink of the cool ale. "Yeah, just making a pit stop. Headed back at dawn."

"Aw, that's a shame," she croons, biting her lips as she looks expectantly at him, wringing her hands together so they inadvertently, or purposefully, push her ample bosom together, drawing even more attention to her scantily clad chest.

Raising a brow in amusement, a smirk ghosts his lips. "Is that so?"

The blonde takes another look at the man before her, eyes trailing from unshaven face to muscled chest, all the way down to the bulge of his crotch — the leather of his pants does nothing to conceal what lay underneath. Gingerly, she places her drink on the counter behind him, using it as an excuse to lean in. She rests one hand casually upon his chest as the other squeezes his thigh.

"Mighty shame I'll only have ya for tonight," she grins.

Nyx chortles at her pluck but leans away to create some distance. "While I appreciate the offer, I'm going to have to decline."

"Aren't ya happy to see me?"

"I'm flattered…really…" he says slowly, not quite following the direction of the conversation.

She motions vaguely at his crotch, "Ye’r not— that's not...?

"Ahhh," he intones as realization and embarrassment dawns, "No. Uh, these uniforms are just..." he clears his throat and shifts in his seat, "...tight."

"Oh," she frowns, stepping back to rest her hand on the jut of her hips. Her eyes narrow as she tries to figure him out. She was attractive, a fact she was proudly aware of, and while she wasn't one to make a habit of picking up strangers at bars when the occasion came, she's never left disappointed. It's a shame too — he was _just_ her type.

Nyx looks uncomfortable as he tries to explain, "Look, it’s nothing personal. I have someone waiting for me back home."

"Never been an issue before, handsome," she teases.

Nyx's brows wrinkle in exasperation as he rises to leave, but the woman puts catches him at his elbow.

"I'm sorry. It’s very sweet of ya. A looker _and_ loyal to boot, what a lucky girl."

"No," he smiles forlornly, "I'm the lucky one, if she'll still have me.”

"Well, if ya ever change your mind, y'know where to find me," she winks before sauntering off.

Nyx shakes his head and sighs — he seems to be doing that a lot tonight, but he really, _really_ wanted to be home. It's been months. One hundred ninety-two days to be exact. Four thousand six hundred and twelve fucking hours since he's last saw, held, spoke to you — 4,611 hours much too long. Gods, he was pathetic. Sitting alone at a bar pining over a girl when he should be celebrating the victory with his team, a victory that will bring Lucis one step closer to toppling the Nif empire, a victory that will bring him one step closer to home, to a life without war and a life with—

"Did you just turn down the belle of Hammerhead?"

Nyx's head snaps up to the sound of Luche's snide voice. "What?"

"That girl, that's Cidney Aurum. _Cid's_ granddaughter. _The_ Cid Sophiar who fought with King Regis thirty years ago before Lucis decided to hide behind its wall."

“Huh.” Nyx shrugs offhandedly before taking another swig of his beer. "She's looking, if you're interested."

"Gods, you're lovesick, Ulric."

"Fuck off, Luche."

 

* * *

 

 _Ring-a-ding_ the bell hanging above the cafe's door chimes.

"Sorry, we're clos—," you begin, but as you look up, the rest of your sentence becomes lodged in your throat.

Standing at the entrance is your long absent boyfriend, still dressed in full combat gear. He looks drained and battle worn. New scars mar his ruggedly handsome face, but the mischievous luster of his steel-grey eyes twinkles brightly, same as ever.

The loud clatter of shattering glass breaks you from your shock.

Ignoring the broken cup, you eloquently say the first thing that comes to mind,  _“You.”_

Unceremoniously, he drops his military issued duffle on the floor and turns to lock the door behind him. “You should lock up when you’re closing shop. Who knows what kind of weirdo will pop in while you’re by your lonesome.”

"Talking 'bout yourself?"

“Ouch. Not a very warm welcome for your boyfriend,” he says, arms held open expectantly.

You're torn between punching the smug grin off his face and jumping into his arms but your anger at his long absence wins out. 

“ _You—_ ,” you hiss again accusingly. 

“If I knew you were going to miss me this much, I’d have stayed away longer,” he chuckles.

“Don’t you _dare,_  Nyx Ulric.”

Finding amusement in your indignation, he laughs, throaty and full-bodied, but swallows it quickly at the hardening of your glare. As if you somehow thought it's by his own machinations he’s stayed away for so long when it's obvious he’d choose just the opposite if given the luxury to do so. In a perfect world, he'd come home to you every night.

The first time the thought had struck him, it had thrown him in such a loop that he misstepped, warping two-meters far too left and directly into a lone MT's field of vision. If he hadn't been so quick to dispatch the unit, the months of reconnaissance they had done would've been for naught. The hero of the Kingsglaive making such a rookie mistake; he didn't hear the end of it for weeks.

To make matters worse, one night in a moment of drunkenness by the base camp's campfire, Crowe had sneakily figured out what exactly made him stumble with an offhand remark about needing to fill his pretty head with more than just thoughts of his 'little love bird' was met with a guilty deer-in-head-lights expression. From that moment on, Crowe became insufferable, making kissy faces whenever she caught his eye.

And now here you finally are, so close, but just out of reach.

Nyx moves so quickly to where you are that you can't tell if he warped the short distance or not. He stands hesitantly in front of you, itching to touch, but hesitant with uncertainty.

You sigh, “You look like shit.”

The insult brings a wide grin to his face. Nyx knows then that you’re not truly upset, else you would've simply ignored him and shut him out like you did the last time you fought.

"I come running here the moment I get back and this is the welcome I get?" he asks with mock hurt as he hugs you tightly, pressing you hard against his chest, coffee stained apron and dirty rag be damned. Despite your anger, you melt into his embrace, butterflies fluttering as his lips press against your forehead. "I've missed you so much."

"Liar," you mumble halfheartedly, tears prickling the corner of your eyes.

"I did. You have no idea just how much, but I see the feeling's not mutual," he teases.

You burrow your face deeper into his chest trying to wipe your tears before he sees. He smells of smoke and sweat, of comfort and home, and somehow you think to yourself, you've never smelled anything better. Shyly, you grumble a response into his chest.

"Can't hear you."

"I missed you too, jerk.”

He steps back, looking into your eyes with a softness that takes your breath away. He tips your chin up so that he could brush his lips lightly against yours. The kiss is soft and sweet, tepid and searching, almost like the first you've ever shared. It's followed by another that is bruising, full of yearning; nibbles on the lips and tugs at the hair. And another, until you’re both left breathless and flushed. When you finally break apart, Nyx rests his forehead against yours, lightly touching his nose to yours.

"Missed this," he murmurs, "Missed _you."_

You hum in agreement as you card your fingers through his hair, enjoying the soft feel of his undercut. He lets out a small noise of content as your fingers dance from the nape of his neck, tracing the lines of his tattoos, to the swell of his cheek.

Nyx leans into your touch, pressing his lips into the palm of your hands, and says, "Let me show you just how much."

"Let's go home then."

Nyx groans in protest. "Can't," he says in between kisses, "Need you. _Now_."

You can't help but giggle, "Someone will see."

"Who cares? Let them watch."

"Nyx!"

"If we stay behind the counter…"

"I'm not— not on the floor. There's broken glass."

His eyes twinkle mischievously, the way it always does when he has a spectacularly great or spectacularly horrible idea.

"Don't worry, babe. I've got a plan."

You watch in amusement as Nyx pulls a chair behind the counter, placing it proudly in front of you.  

"Your plan is a ch—"

He silences you with a dizzying kiss, lips bruising and teeth tugging for more. Lost in the fervor of his lips, you hear a loud rip before Nyx grabs your wrists, shoving them roughly behind your back. Soft silk slithers across your skin and with a tug, your hands snap together. Glancing over your shoulder you see your wrists are secured with the purple ribbon of his uniform.

“ _Really_ , Nyx?”

He hums in answer, his lips trailing sensually down the column of your neck. Using deft fingers, your apron quickly falls to the ground and the buttons of your blouse pop open. Stepping back, Nyx admires your disheveled form, hands tied behind your back and exposed chest pushed forward. You felt vulnerable, but the heat of his gaze has you trembling with desire and the precarious nature of your location is already forgotten.

“I’ve dreamt of you like this before, babe. Tied up and waiting.” He palms your breast and flicks his thumb across your lace-covered nipple. “Waiting, moaning, _wanting_ …”

When his tongue tentatively slides across your nipple, your back arches and a low moan escapes your lips. _Gods._ You forgot how good it felt to have his tongue on you.

“Yeah, like that babe,” he says with his lips still upon you, tonguing your nub softly before he bites down and demands, “Again.”

Another wanton moan bursts out, making his cock twitch in excitement. His bulge strains for release against the tight leather of his uniform, but Nyx pays it no attention. Instead, he hoists you onto the counter, ripping your skirt, too eager and impatient to touch you.

“Did you wear this for me?” His hands slide up your thighs until his thumbs are grazing your center. You lift your hips in response, but he pushes you harshly down tutting at your impatience. “Did you, babe? So I can fuck you with your clothes on?

The words bring forth a flood of memories — that time he fucked you against a pillar in the training yard, that time in a secluded corner of a club, and that other time, pressed against the window of a high rise. Your thighs rub together as the moisture dampens your underwear.

“Nuh uh,” he pushes your legs open and leans down to take a single lick through the lace of your underwear. The heat of his tongue sends a faint ache of toe-curling pleasure through you, but it’s not enough to quell the lust coiling in your abdomen.

“ _Nyx_ …” you whine desperately.

He looks up through hooded lids and grins mischievously before digging two fingers into your underwear, knuckles grazing against your already wet entrance, and ripping a hole in the center.

“Bab—” you begin to protest, but it turns into a deep moan when his fingers plunge in without warning, moving so his fingertips curl against your sweet spot with each push.

“In my dreams, I make you cum. Over. And over. And over again.”

A whimper escapes your lips at the unbidden promise.

He grins cheekily, “You know, babe, you shouldn’t be so mad. While I was away, I’ve gotten pretty good at magic…”

With those words, you begin to feel a tingling warmth spread through your womb until it turns into hot, hot heat licking at your walls. Your eyes flutter shut, the surge of heat intensifying as he fingerfucks you relentlessly. It feels like he’s cumming in you – spurts of lava, pulsating and caressing from within, but without the thickness and fullness of his cum. You have no idea how he's creating these sensations within you, but you can't bring yourself to care. All you know was that heat of him bursting in you has always been enough to drive you towards the edge and now you were spiraling dangerously close. With one last thrust into the sensitive bundle of nerves within you, he releases an intense deluge of fire that has you plummeting into an orgasm so fierce, you cum with the embarrassingly loud scream of his name on your lips.

“If you don’t keep it down, people outside will hear.”

You rest your damp forehead on his shoulder, trying to catch your breath. “What— what was that?”

He grins instead of answering and pulls over the chair to sit directly in front of you, a clear view of your most intimate parts rewarding his gaze.

“So wet already," he says with a self-satisfied grin. Nyx holds up a finger with a delicate flame dancing upon it.

“Nyx! Did you just…”

Entranced, you watch as he brings it to your clit, letting the flame dance across your skin; it feels soothing, pleasant like the gentle laps of bathwater. Grinning wickedly, Nyx sends a surge of magic to his fingertip until a pleasant burn shoots deep through your core. It’s overwhelming, hot and scorching, then warm and tepid, flickering over and over until you feel as if your whole body is engulfed in flames. Fingers still drenched with your desire, he places them around your nub, careful to avoid the sensitive center as he rubs languid circles, letting flames caress where his fingers avoid. He rubs again, slow and deliberate, pressing harder, harder—

“ _Ah!_ _Nyx_ ,” you gasp as you lose yourself in a sudden inferno of blinding euphoria.

He continues his ministrations through your orgasm. “Did you like that, babe?”

You nod, leaning bonelessly against the espresso machine as you try to ride out the rest of your orgasm. But Nyx is relentless. Before you’ve recovered a sharp jolt hits your swollen clit.

“What about this?” he asks as electricity pulsates between his fingers, sending prickles of pleasure through your clit.

“Nyx, _please_. I can’t— _fuckkk_ ,” you hiss as the shocks dull into soft palpitations.

“Can’t what, babe?” he questions guilelessly as his fingers slip against your lips and to your center, letting the vibrations and tingles massage the outside of your dripping entrance.

Body still thrumming from your previous orgasms, every nerve feels painfully sensitive, as if you’re bursting at the seams. You want him to stop, to let you catch your breath and rest, but _somehow_ the pain ebbs into pleasure and Nyx soon has you rutting into his hand. Thumb resting on your clit, his fingers slip in and out, vibrating with an intensity that unravels the tightly wound coil in your lower abdomen.

“Nyx, gods, _I’m_ _going_ _to_ —”

 _“Cum,”_ he urges, breath hot on your thighs, as the cadence of his magic escalates.

Your climax hits you harder than the previous — electrifying, world shattering, full-bodied. Unabashedly, your hips jerk wildly upon the marble countertop, trying to extend then dazzling pleasure that’s flowing through your veins like liquid fire.

Nyx looks at you with a smoldering hunger that simultaneously terrifies and excites you — you're honestly not sure if you can take anymore.

 _“Fuck,_ you’re so hot,” is all he says before leaning in to kiss the juncture of your legs.

The wet heat of his mouth is different from the hum of his magic. It’s soft and hard all at once, so familiar with the way he licks and the way his facial hair scratches at your thighs that your whole body sighs in relief. Each lick has you arching for more until you're gyrating into his face, savoring the roughness of his beard when it accidentally grazes your raw clit. As the pressure builds, a simple flick of his tongue sends you into an aching orgasm, clit twitching as you cum, red and swollen from attention.

Nyx sits back to watch you. Head thrown back and eyes closed, you look like a goddess drunk on the drink of ambrosia. His eyes trail over your heaving chest, pink nipples swollen and eager to escape the lace confines of your bra, to the glossy wetness of your semi-exposed cunt. He watches covetously as your entrance clenches, thick juice squirting down your thighs and onto the marble counter.

You should be well satiated, but incoherent thoughts of wanting, _needing_  Nyx’s cock is all that swirls in your mind, a whirlpool of desirous appetence that cannot be quenched otherwise. It's been  _too_ long.

“Nyx. _Please_ ,” you beg, too dazed to form complete sentences.

“In my dreams, this is when I wake up,” he groans, cupping his groin. “I wake up hard,” he releases his cock from the constraints of his pants; it jumps to attention, fully erect and throbbing. “...and needy for you.”

Nyx sits in full regalia, gorgeous black leather and gunmetal chains covering every part of his body except his throbbing cock. The cinnabar rays of dusk cast an ethereal glow upon him, alighting the luminescence of his eyes and the gleaming pearl of precum on the tip of his cock. It hits you again, how beautiful this man is and how much you’ve missed him. The yearning to run your lips on him, tasting his savory musk, watching him become undone, as he had done to you, makes you struggle haplessly against your restraints.

“No. Stay there. I want you to see what you do to me.” Fisting his cock, he strokes down, dragging his foreskin to reveal the smooth head atop his shaft. The singular motion has him leaking with more. “I haven’t even done anything and I’m already like this for you,” Nyx gasps out, voice rough with an edge to it. 

He runs his thumb across his slit, rubbing the silky liquid across his shaft, teasing the ridge of his head with a small twist of his wrist.

“This— this isn’t enough. So I—” The rest of the words are lost in a deep groan as his hands alight with the same flames he used on you. His eyes flutter close as the embers caress his cock. Nyx wears an expression of utter bliss as he pumps his fist. “When I do this— I can pretend— it’s your hot cunt— I’m fucking,” he says between ragged breaths.

“Baby, _please_. Let me—”

“So hot— wet— tight for me.” His eyes clench, and his jaw slackens as a low groan escapes from deep within his chest. 

“I want to _feel_ you. _Please_.”

Before you can blink, Nyx has you on your feet and turned towards the counter. The purple ribbon falls from your wrist and his cock slams hard into you from behind. You grasp the edge of the counter desperately, quivering from the newfound fullness within you, finally feeling complete.

 _Fuck_ , _he feels so good_.

Somehow the act of having sex clothed excites you terribly. It heightens the sensations of where your skins touch — the gradual drag of his cock, the ridge of his head against your entrance, the dull pain of his teeth against your shoulder, and the desperate grip of his hands on your hips. As he grinds his cock deeper into you, vacantly you realize you’re both facing the front of the store and exposed to the prying eyes of passerbys.

His breath is hot against your neck as he whispers, “Don't cum, or they’ll see.”

Unfortunately, his words have the opposite effect and you’re quivering tightly around him at the thought despite the rush hour crowd passing by your cafe. You try to school your face in a neutral expression, but when every movement sends you careening towards the edge you can't help but part your lips panting in desirous need. A man walking past the store catches your eye (he _knows_ ), but you're far too gone to care. When his fingers snake in front, warm and dazzling, you’re lost to the world. Feeling you tighten and tremble, Nyx fucks with a renewed vigor, ramming into the deepest parts of you until he has you screaming for release.

“ _Ah, ah, ahh,_   _Nyx. Yessss,_ ” you manage to moan, “Harder— I— I— _unnngh_.” You whine helplessly as he abruptly pulls out, interrupting your peak.

Spinning you around, he cups your face and kisses you deeply, backing away one step at a time with lips still locked until the back of his knees hit the edge of the chair. Breaking away, he sits down like a king upon his throne, legs spread with confidence and thick cock shiny with slick.

“I don’t want them to see. I want to be the only one to see your face as you cum,” he demands as he motions you hither with a single digit.

Obediently, you lower yourself upon him, sheathing him to the hilt. The new position stretches you in a way you haven’t felt in a long time, so you pause, trying to acclimate yourself to the thickness of his cock as he jerkily tries to maintain control over his body. Despite his concupiscence, he lets you set the pace, a steady grind into a deeper orgasm.

Nyx sighs into your shoulder before placing a soft kiss there, “I’ve missed you so much.”

"I—," His tenderness makes you tremble in his arms and you want to tell him how you've thought of him every day, how lonely it was without him, how the loneliness turned to anger and then to sadness and then back again, how you realized that maybe you loved him, but this wasn't the time or place so you settle with a, "I missed you too."

Nyx kisses you deeply at that, his grip on your hips tightening until you feel a dull pain from the blunt of his nails. Placing your hands upon his broad shoulders for leverage, you move slowly while maintaining the kiss. Your movements are sensuous, deliberate; a twist of hips as you fall upon him, a soft jerk upwards to slide him out. You want to savor the feel of him, the softness of his lips on yours, the roughness of his hands upon your ass and the fullness of his cock as it plunges into the depths of your womb.

The tempo is torturous, months of pent up desire building until it feels like it's tearing him apart. Nyx digs his fingers hard into your buttocks, his breaths shallow and kisses sloppy. He knows he's close. Determined orgasm together, in the next motion, he slams your hips down as he meets you halfway in hard, sharp thrusts causing a loud moan of surprise to puncture the steady sounds of your copulation. As the pressure crescendos within the hollow of your hips, you bounce wildly on his cock, each swift downward motion punctured by a sweet squeeze of your cunt.

The slickness of your heat engulfing him over and over as he watches you pleasure yourself upon him with reckless abandon is more than he can take. Before he knows it, Nyx cums hard and shuddering with your name upon his lips, chanting like a prayer. His release is unlike any other, the cumulation of months of abstinence mixed with ravenous desire and something akin to love erupts with the full force of a volcano, filling you until it seeps from where you are joined. 

His hot seed spurting into your womb has you shuddering into your own release, clenching around him, milking for every last drop. His cum spilling into you as his cock jerks in ecstasy is better than anything you've ever felt. Unable to control yourself, you impale yourself upon his still hard cock a few more times, enjoying the slipperiness of his cum before pulling yourself off to rub your clit down his cum soaked cock. Normally, you'd control yourself from such overt displays of wanton self-pleasure (Nyx is bound to be smug about it) but it just feels _so_ good and the extra lubricant lets your bounce seamlessly against his shaft until you're quickly moaning another release into his shoulder.

Nyx smirks, smacking your ass. "Missed me that much, huh?"

Sweat slicked and panting, you ignore him to pull him in for a kiss as the tsunami of euphoria subsides into a gentle undulation of pleasure. Smiling, you collapse limply in his muscled arms, letting him nuzzle his bearded face into the crook of your neck.

As you idly play with his braid you say, “If this is the result of you being away, maybe you should leave again. _Soon_.”

A hard smack on your ass and a loud, “ _Oi!_ ” is his only response before he claims your lips again.

_Welcome home babe._


End file.
